Now that I believe I've established just why I need to build the new raft--and the old raft is safely secured to the trunk of a beautiful and sturdy tree--I supposed it was time to begin sifting through the archives that have long been aboard. I started near the rear of the raft, in a small cabin that was one of the first additions to my trusty vessel.

Though H was technically a big part of the reason this particular addition to the old raft was built, it was really the birth of Weasel that began changing our center of gravity as we drifted down my river. I didn't know this at the time, of course, and it struck me as funny (in an interesting way) how sometimes the physically smaller nouns upon a raft seem to alter its balance much more noticeably than the larger ones. And even funnier (in an interesting way), the nouns that have no measurable mass at all upon Earth can have the greatest impact of all. Perhaps there is a lesson in that somewhere for me? I digress.

So I found this small wooden chest tucked in the corner of the small additional cabin, and it was a bit weather-stained. The lid creaked softly as I lifted it open, and what do I find inside but the memory of when I blessed Weasel--just as he had blessed me a few days previous--when he emerged from the launch tube. You might have guessed by now, this is the very event captured in the photo that precedes this. I was fairly jubilant in discovering this memory, and I called my lovely assistant over to share in my joy. Ever the disinterested feline, she sniffed, swooshed her tail, and reminded me that I still have a lot to learn about cats. No matter, at least she stole none of my joy. She is a good assistant.

This is the first time I have ever told anyone about blessing Weasel--even H and Weasel don't know about it or that this photo exists. I'm more spiritual than I often let on to people, and I've been known to do odd things like this from time to time when my heart moves me to. In the event you're wondering how H and Weasel still don't know about this, it's simple: Weasel was far too young to have a conscious memory of it, and I did it late at night while H was sleeping--in the garage (Weasel and I were in the garage, not H). I can even remember the exact date that picture was taken, because I blessed him exactly 8 days after his birth--that is when my heart had told me I should do it. It was February 3, 2005.

That blessing became more important over time, as I continue to learn. See, when I blessed Weasel, what I really did was dedicate him to God. I lit two candles (one white, and one red), I burned frankincense, and I quietly thanked God for this amazing gift and assured Him that I understood this was His child, not mine; I understood that He was kind enough to allow me to care for His child while it was in this world, though ultimately it was not my property--only my responsibility. I assured Him also that I would always do my best to care for Weasel. I concluded the blessing by sprinkling holy water upon him (the holy water was a gift from a Russian friend--it was water she had saved from when her baby was blessed at the Russian Orthodox church).

Perhaps something in my heart knew that H would be hopping of my raft at some point, I really don't know...I only knew I felt the need to bless him. As H and I parted ways and there was much fear of the unknown, reminding myself that this is God's child--not mine--helped calm me. It assured me that if she ever decided to use Weasel as a way to be vindictive toward me, she would be messing with the Dude Upstairs, not me. It helped me to feel that, whatever the outcome may be, Weasel would always be protected. Thankfully, I can honestly say that H never attempted such a thing, and I will always give her credit for that. I can't stress enough how much peace this continues to bring me as the years march on.